Ballad Of Fallen Angels
by Kaiyote
Summary: “I'm here to save your life.” Set during the Fugitives Volume. Incest, Slash. Peter/Sylar.


**If you want to read a better-formatted version, please go to my Fanfiction Livejournal **_**theblackmonster.**_

**A/N:** Just a note for possible spoilers... this was inspired by the Fugitives trailer/promo/whatever that aired after 3x13, but it was only _inspired_ by that. I have no idea what's actually going to happen in that volume (besides the promo), so if you are worried about being spoiled for things... well. :( Don't be.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Heroes.

**Warnings: **Incest. Peter/Sylar. Implied Character Death.

**Ballad Of Fallen Angels**

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* * *

  
**

There's tea on when he enters his apartment.

He can hear a sharp shrill sounding as he closes the door, cautiously looking around at his- as far as he can tell, and hopes- empty apartment. He moves to the stove, taking the kettle off quickly and looks around again.

The apartment is almost completely dark, only lit in golds and red-oranges of the sunset from outside the windows. Shadows in the corners of the rooms making the apartment seem smaller than it already is.

It's almost night.

He hasn't been home all day.

He steps into the living room, looking around again, but the room is empty as well and he can't see anyone in the bedroom either. Briefly he wonders if it's Claude that's been in his home- still is, but no. He knows it wouldn't be.

"N-"

The name almost leaves his lips, but he stops it just as quickly as he had started it. He hasn't spoken to Nathan in months- hasn't wanted to, and Nathan has made no attempt to get into contact with him either.

There was, he remembers, a phone call made to him during the first few weeks after Pinehearst had exploded and he had gotten his powers back... but that had been a secretary making the phone call instead of Nathan himself.

He had hung up on the girl before she barely even got a word out.

There had been no contact after that.

He looks around again, stepping into the bedroom, but as he had already seen there was no one there, and he turns around, moving back to the living room. But-

There's a dark shadow in the kitchen now and he lets electricity crackle its way over his fingertips.

"Who's there?" he calls out angrily, stepping closer, but the shadow moves into the orange glow of the living room. The shadow shimmers suddenly, silver and blue lighting the room for a moment before it forms the shape of a man.

The shape of-

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes from his lips.

No name, no sound and he thinks _Sylar_.

The electricity sparks one last time in his hands before dying out.

_"Peter."_

Sylar smiles at him when he speaks his name, all dark in the shadows and it disturbs him more than it should. Not for the fact that Sylar is smiling at him, but for the fact that instead of malice the smile is all warm.

Dark and warm, but still warm nonetheless.

He tries another power after that, but they all seem to fizzle out before they can actually do anything and he stops trying, not wanting to waste the energy.

"What are you doing here?" he finally grinds out, the words only making their way past his lips because he forces them to. He doesn't know why he bothers to ask in the first place, though.

There's only one reason Sylar would ever come to see him now.

Sylar's smile fades slightly at his words and fear starts to creep into his veins at the look on his face. Sylar steps towards him then and he wants to take a step back- teleport out more than anything- but he can no more move than use any of his powers.

"_Oh,"_ Sylar's voice is soft when he speaks, almost angelic sounding. He's right in front of him now and he flinches when Sylar moves a hand to touch his face. _"Peter, I'm not here for that."_

There's no movement.

No sign in Sylar's eyes or face. No flick of a wrist or movement of a hand. Just a small breath next to his cheek and then he's on the floor, looking up at Sylar, who towers over him.

Sylar is all shadows, looming, the sunset behind him turning him golden-orange at the edges, and Peter feels pure fear run through his veins. There's nothing he can do. No escape as Sylar kneels down beside him.

"Don't- don't," he whispers, voice just a tiny breath as Sylar smiles at him again, the same as before. Dark and warm and full of something that on anyone else's face Peter might consider love.

"It's okay," Sylar states calmly and his finger is pointed out now. "I'm here to save your life."

Sylar moves his hand then, finger slicing across his forehead and he can't scream at all. Blood clouds his vision, making it's way down his face and all he can see is Sylar above him, still smiling.

He lets out a sigh that should be a scream.

The world goes black.

* * *

The world is all dark.

_"I found our father."_

The last thing he remembers is seeing Sylar above him, dark and full of shadows. Golden, orange light surrounding him and then the world turning red.

_"It turns out we're brothers after all, Peter."_

He doesn't understand.

_"Separated at birth, isn't that... amusing? That we're still brothers?"_

The world is all dark and he can't see anything at all and he's sure-

_"He was a horrible man, our father."_

He's sure he's dead, but he can still hear Sylar's voice.

_"I killed him, but not before learning this. I took his power as well."_

Drifting in and out of his head like the sound of waves.

_"Angela- she isn't our mother either, and Arthur was never your father- took you, left me."_

It's all dark.

_"We're the only family each other has left now."_

Dark.

_"You're the only thing I have left."_

* * *

He isn't sure if he's still alive, but he can hear someone humming in the distance.

Loud enough to still be heard, but soft enough that if he were truly asleep he wouldn't be able to hear it. He doesn't know what the tune is to, what name it has.

If it is has one at all, but it sounds familiar to him still.

Like a lullaby he had once heard as a child, maybe.

He thinks it's odd someone- Sylar would take such consideration of him.

The humming stops suddenly and he can hear the sound of movement, footsteps moving closer to wherever he lays and then the sound stops. He can feel someone brush the hair from out of his eyes, if his eyes were open in the first place.

Fingers stroking his forehead and hair lightly, gently.

_What..._ he wants to say, but it barely comes out as a thought and he can feel the world start to drift away from him.

_"Go back to sleep."_

He does.

* * *

The room is all dark when he finally wakes up and he blinks slowly.

Sylar is sitting next to him, but his head is turned away, looking at the door.

He feels tired.

Like he should be running at full speed away from Sylar right now, but he can't seem to find the effort. He doesn't think he could even muster up the energy if he actually wanted to run away.

"What-" he croaks out and licks his lips.

He can taste blood in his mouth when he swallows.

"_Oh,_" Sylar whispers, head whirling around to look at him and there's a sudden jump in his heart at the movement before it dies down. "You're awake."

Sylar moves a hand then, picking up a glass of water on the nightstand and offering it to him. Peter eyes it wearily, but takes the cup gratefully anyway, sipping slowly.

"What... are you doing?" he asks after the water is gone, looking at Sylar just as wearily as he had the water.

The question causes Sylar to stand suddenly, and Peter moves more quickly than he had thought possible in his current condition. He grabs Sylar's hand, pulling him back and keeping him from leaving.

"You can't just _go_," he almost yells, voice still harsh after not being used for hours. "You have to... _what did you_ do _to me?_"

Sylar only stares at their hands together, fingers intertwined and Peter pulls him again, dragging him down slightly and moving him closer to the bed. Their eyes meet for a brief moment before Sylar looks away.

"I have to go," Sylar finally states, looking at their hands still.

Peter can feel him start to move away before he does, hands almost letting go. Instead, he pulls himself up, using Sylar as an anchor, staggering into him when he stands.

"No," he grinds out angrily. "What did you do to me? What... were you saying before? Are we really... brothers?"

Sylar looks into his eyes and he feels as if he should back down, but he refuses.

"I... took your powers."

The answer still shocks him, even if he has already known the answer since first seeing Sylar this night. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and he stares stupidly at their hands still clasped together.

He can feel Sylar's gaze on him, drifting down to their hands and he can feel the pull of Sylar moving away, and he lets him let go.

"We are brothers, Peter."

The sound of footsteps doesn't move him from out of his daze, and he doesn't look at his lone hand, grasping nothing. Focuses instead on the empty space where Sylar's hand had been.

He looks up only as the door opens and there's the same silver-blue light as Sylar shimmers out of existence and the sound of the door slipping shut. He closes his mouth and opens it again, feeling-

He isn't sure, but confusion clouds his eyes.

He turns around then, looking and turning as if it to find some answer that would help him... understand.

Sylar had killed him- taken his power and Peter holds out his hand, trying for electricity or the blue of flames. Even the golden glow that he loathes, but nothing comes. He hadn't just taken his powers for himself- he had simply _taken_ his powers.

All, every one of them.

He swallows.

"Where are you going?" he breathes out finally, even though he knows he's all alone in the apartment.

He looks around once more and there's no blood anywhere, on the floor or on his body or in his bed, even though Sylar had sliced his head open and looked within it to take... everything from him.

No sign that he had ever been there at all.

There's a dull throbbing behind his eyes, pounding slowly at his head and he sits down- collapses onto his bed.

_Sylar is my brother... my mother and father aren't... and- Nathan isn't..._ he thinks slowly, head spinning and spinning around and around again until he's sure that he's going to throw up.

_My life has been a lie._

He breathes out slowly, trying not to think, and he doesn't intend to fall asleep.

But he does anyway.

* * *

He doesn't know what happens, like so many other things.

There's a sudden sound of breaking wood and then multiple hands are pulling him to his feet, dragging him out of his bed.

There's so much sound and noise, voices shouting and before he can even blink there's cloth placed over his head, turning the world dark as a sharp sting is pressed into his neck.

Then the world turning even darker.

* * *

Peter blinks slowly awake, groggily looking around at his surroundings.

He thinks everything should be bright white, but it's all grey or near-white. Not a pure, bright kind of white. He thinks, _nothing about this place could be seen as_ pure_._

He can blearily make out shapes with white lab coats on, however.

Voices whispering.

Someone moves near him with a clipboard and he looks up at their face, looking into their eyes. Trying to gage some sort of reaction from them, but the person only looks at him briefly before turning away.

He can hear more whispers then and the same sting of pain at something pressed into his skin.

_No... no..._ he thinks as the world starts to turn dark again.

He can dimly hear someone that sounds disturbingly like Nathan shout and start to yell in the background.

_"What do you mean all the tests are negative?"_ echoing in his ears as the world finally goes completely black.

* * *

The next time he wakes he's in a hospital bed and there's a soft sound of tapping near his head. He groans, turning his head to face the noise.

Blinking up at Nathan's disapproving face glaring down at him.

"What did you do, _Peter_?" Nathan asks angrily and he still has no idea what's going on at all.

He _does_ know that _he_ should be the one asking that question either way, though. He tries to speak, but his mouth feels dry and he eyes the cup by the side of the bed, but decides against taking it for the moment.

"I..." he coughs as he speaks, swallowing and he still doesn't really have any idea as to what his response should be. "How about what _you_ did?"

Nathan's glare deepens at the truth in his words and Peter feels himself grow angry at the look on his face.

"What did _you_ do?" he shouts angrily then, sitting up higher so that he isn't so beneath Nathan's gaze. "What did _you_ do?"

Nathan's glare fades away at his words and he makes a sort of noise in the back of his throat, trying to soften up the expression on his face. Peter _almost_ wants to feel something at the fact that Nathan is trying to look less harsh, but he simply can't.

"It doesn't matter," Nathan finally says, looking around the room. "Why didn't you tell me you didn't have your powers anymore?"

He opens his mouth to speak, but something changes in Nathan's expression then. Only for a split second, but it's there all the same and he stares at Nathan with an expression of bewilderment on his own face when Nathan opens _his_ mouth to speak.

_"How did you lose your powers?"_

Nathan's words are all dark.

Deadly sounding and Peter moves backwards a little, back pressing against the railing on the bed. He swallows thickly, tilting his head, mouth moving into a frown.

"Do you actually care?" he asks, voice turning just as dark as Nathan's had been.

Nathan looks around again, expression almost nervous, but- not.

Closer to a mix of frustration, and not even nervousness.

"You're my brother, Peter," Nathan whispers, face closer to his than Peter wants and he feels himself shiver at the words, despite the fact that he loathes that he does so. "Of course I care."

Nathan moves a hand to rest on his shoulder then before moving to link their hands together. Peter only stares at Nathan incredulously at the movement and wrenches his hand out of Nathan's grasp.

"You are _not_ my brother," he growls. "You had me kidnapped! You had the _government_ kidnap me _in the middle of the night_ and had them take me to a lab to do- if I..."

Peter's eyes go wide then, understanding why Sylar had been to his apartment the night before. Or what he hoped had been the night before...

He didn't even know what the day it was anymore.

_Jesus,_ he thought.

"If I had my powers right now I would still be there, wouldn't I?" he breathes out, not even able to fully comprehend just what Nathan was capable of and what he was actually _doing_. What he _would_ have done.

What he _had_ done in the first place.

He looks into Nathan's eyes, but they're all dark and he knows if he were any less angry he would shrink underneath the gaze, but fury runs through his veins instead of fear.

"I still would be, wouldn't I?" he asks again, even though he already knows the answer.

Even if he doesn't want to know.

"You are _not_ my brother. You are _not_ my family."

Nathan voices no response at his words, or his question, just looks at him darker than ever before moving toward the door. Peter wants to speak again, yell at him, but he can't as Nathan's hand grasps the door handle, pulling it open.

"You're free to go."

Nathan doesn't even look at him as he leaves.

* * *

He leaves the hospital with no resistance.

No police or guards of any kind.

No hospital security watching his every movement.

He watches the TV in the waiting room as he goes, the news broadcasting, looking for something in the reports. But there's no news of any kidnappings.

No one being taken from their homes and no mention of any kind of powers.

He hopes, dimly, that he was the first one.

The only one.

That Nathan will stop after this.

That no one else will be taken from out of their homes in the middle of the night just because they _have_ powers, whether they are actually good in the first place or not, but...

The door from the hospital makes a whooshing sound behind him as he exits, and he knows better.

He just doesn't know what to do with that knowledge.

* * *

His apartment is exactly the same when he enters it. No broken furniture or busted door, just everything in its place as it had been before.

Somehow... that's what makes it all the more worse than it already is.

He sits down on his bed.

Collapses, really, onto it, taking his head in his hands.

The world is falling apart and he doesn't even have any powers to cause or stop it anymore this time.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, head in his hands, but at some point there's a sudden disturbance of sound in the silence of the room. A soft sound similar to that of someone teleporting in, but... different.

There's a hand stroking the top of his head suddenly and he looks up, eyes colored close to red at the edges, and Sylar stands above him before moving. Sinking down, knees on the floor, almost eye level with him.

"Thank you," he whispers softly, voice harsh and wet, only loud enough for Sylar to hear. "You... saved me."

Sylar smiles darkly up at him.

"It's what... brothers do."

Peter can't help the laughter that bubbles out of him at Sylar's words.

_Brothers..._ he thinks just as darkly as the smile on Sylar's face. _Brothers._

_It's what brothers do, of course._

The laughter suddenly stops, though, and both of their faces turn serious.

He takes Sylar's hands into his own, moving backwards onto the bed, pulling Sylar along with him. Sylar follows, though of his own accord, and Peter lies down, looking up at him. Eyes all black in the dark of the room.

Sylar sits on the edge of the bed, and Peter pulls again, trying to move him. There's no movement, though, and when Sylar turns his head to look at him his eyes are a different kind of dark.

Peter swallows, looking away.

"What did you do... exactly?" he finally asks after the room is silent for too long. He doesn't turn his head, but slides his gaze back instead.

Sylar isn't looking at him, though, just staring off into space.

"Erased your powers. Permanently."

"_Oh._"

He thinks his voice sounds incredibly soft in the darkness.

Weak.

There's the sound of movement and Peter closes his eyes at the noise. He can feel Sylar above him, arms on either side of his head and Sylar's eyes feel like fire on him, burning too intensely.

When he opens his eyes Sylar's head is tilted, and his gaze softens.

He moves quicker than Sylar can, or does. Lifting himself up and pressing a soft kiss onto Sylar's lips before falling back down again on the bed.

Sylar's head is still tilted at him, curiosity and confusion written all over his face.

"Why did you do that?"

Peter moves a hand to wrap around Sylar's back, pressing them closer together, just a little.

"You're right. You're the only person I have left."

Some amusement flickers within Sylar's eyes. A frown on his face turning upwards slightly at the corners, though when he speaks his voice isn't soft and there's an edge of resentment in it.

"I feel so wanted."

Peter almost laughs, but decides against it.

He pulls Sylar down instead, bringing their faces together, kissing him harshly and fast. When he finally breaks the kiss they're both breathless and Sylar rests his forehead against his shoulder.

"I'm all you have left too," he moves a hand to cup the back of Sylar's neck, whispering a soft breath in his ear. "We're all each other has."

Sylar rolls over then, side pressed against his side and Peter turns to look at him.

"Do you want me to stop him?" Sylar asks slowly, cautiously.

Voice dark in the moonlight.

He swallows as Sylar turns to look at him, and when he opens his mouth to speak words fail him, and he looks away. Sylar stops him, though, a hand grasping his chin and turning his face to look back.

"Do we really-" Sylar starts and Peter cannot look away even if he wanted to, even with Sylar's hand no longer on his face. Moving down to rest over his heart. "Do we really deserve to be hunted down like animals? Just because they don't understand?"

He only frowns at Sylar's words, not bothering to laugh at the irony.

_As if Sylar should speak of hunting down others..._

But he knows the truth in the words and knows that, in the end, Sylar is right. He doesn't voice an answer, though, thinking only, _no._

_No, we don't._

_He has to be stopped._

No matter what.

He blinks rapidly, suddenly, realizing he's been drifting off, and when he looks into Sylar's eyes he realizes the gaze there is too intense. Like fires still burning too brightly for him.

"Are you sure?"

_Yes,_ he thinks, but still doesn't speak and at his non-verbal answer Sylar stands quickly, before he can even move or blink or move to blink. There's a silver-blue light again and then Sylar is gone, shifting out of existence.

The sound of the door to the apartment opening and closing quickly.

He swallows then, eyes welling up at the implication of Sylar leaving, but he can't-

It felt like such a long time ago, when he had seen his future self, and he hadn't understood him then at all.

He couldn't understand any of his actions or why or how he could have ever done them in the first place, but now... it hurts more than ever now that he _does_ understand.

And he _does_ understand.

He doesn't mean to fall asleep this time either, but he does again anyway.

* * *

It's the sound of humming that wakes him again.

Or at least causes him to realize he's been awake the whole time.

There's a sudden shift, a movement of someone sitting on the bed next to him, it dipping down at the weight. He lets out a sound of _hrmph_ and sleepily blinks his eyes open, still not completely awake.

"_No, don't-_" he can hear Sylar whisper in the darkness and he closes his eyes again. "_Go back to sleep._"

He nods slightly, letting out a sigh and pulls Sylar down onto him.

"It's... over?" he asks, eyes still closed.

There's a pressure against his chest as Sylar shifts positions, moving so that he isn't so completely covering him.

"Yes."

He opens his eyes at the answer and Sylar stares at him, eyes and face soft, but worry apparent.

"It's-" he licks his lips as he starts to speak. "It had to be done."

Sylar nods slowly, the worry on his face, for the most part, disappearing.

Peter moves over slightly, offering Sylar the space left in his absence. Sylar takes it, laying down next to him, turning on his side. An arm suddenly draped over his shoulder possessively.

He can feel Sylar breathing, warm air against his neck, moving his hair slightly.

The humming starts again and Peter closes his eyes.

He cracks an eye open seconds later, though, turning slightly onto his side and resting his forehead against Sylar's. Sylar's own eyes are closed and Peter almost thinks he's fallen asleep. Almost.

"What is that?" he asks softly, referring to the humming, and Sylar's eyes snap open. "What are the words?"

Sylar frowns at him, stopping the song and looking at him curiously.

"The song- you were humming that before, when you-" he pauses, the expression on Sylar's face turning deeper, curiosity and confusion changing into something like surprise. "It sounded familiar."

Sylar opens his mouth to speak, but stops and closes it. Then opens it again.

"Just a song I've known ever since I was a child," Sylar whispers in the dark and the moonlight.

Peter feels a frown starting to form on his face, but he ignores it and closes his eyes. He can feel Sylar do the same and he moves his hand, searching for Sylar's in the black and grasping it in his own when he finds it.

"I'm sorry," Sylar whispers and Peter can barely hear his voice at all, the world starting to drift away as Sylar starts to hum once again.

"I'm-" he breathes out slowly, sleep starting to completely overtake him. "I'm... not."

There's almost-silence for a long time then, the only sounds that of Sylar humming and the slow sound of breathing coming from the both of them. He breathes a sigh and he can hear Sylar shift at the noise, the humming stopping for a moment.

"Do you want me to stop?" Sylar questions and it sounds like it should mean something deeper than it actually does, but it doesn't.

And if it does, he doesn't care.

"No," he replies and Sylar starts to hum again, softly. "Just keep... don't stop."

He lets the sound sing him to sleep.


End file.
